


For Good Luck

by smoak-queen (PorcelainCas)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Episode: s02e22 Streets of Fire, F/M, Gen, POV Felicity Smoak, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcelainCas/pseuds/smoak-queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it takes a while for Felicity to process all this and allow herself to keep fighting against the desire to just succumb to the thought that it possibly really is over. She needs to keep believing and keep hoping, because she believes in Oliver Queen and she has for the past year. Unlike everyone else, she sees the man under the hood, and she believes in him because Oliver Queen can stop this. He always does, and Felicity trusts him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Good Luck

**Author's Note:**

> Basically a retelling of the scene because what is life. Jesus, I feel like this is so OOC; there's too much attempt angst. I'M SORRY.
> 
> [my tumblr](http://ensemble-of-dolphins.tumblr.com)

Felicity watches the city burn and Oliver Queen fall apart before her eyes. Police sirens and helicopter blades scream in tandem with the silence outside, and Oliver looks more like a soldier who has given up than the masked vigilante she once knew, respected, and even feared to an extent.

“I didn’t know, Felicity. Five years ago, I was a completely different person, and I had … no idea that some like this was even,” he pauses, still staring at the broken city. “…Possible. I couldn’t … have imagined it.”

They had been a fraction of a second too late — if only they had made it to him earlier, they would have the cure. Now who knew where there only chances were; it was probably in Slade’s clutches if Felicity had to give her best estimation.

With Diggle checking on Roy, Felicity and Oliver are alone in the abandoned cathedral, listening to the fading sirens echoing in the too silent night. For a battle lost, it feels too quiet, too empty, pleading in need of a hero, and maybe that’s why Felicity just _can’t_ believe that it’s over and that they’ve lost because they _haven’t_. Not yet.

Maybe it takes a while for Felicity to process all this and allow herself to keep fighting against the desire to just succumb to the thought that it possibly really is over. She needs to keep believing and keep hoping, because she believes in Oliver Queen and she has for the past year. Unlike everyone else, she sees the man under the hood, and she believes in him because Oliver Queen _can_ stop this. He always does, and Felicity trusts him to.

What doesn’t help is that there is misery coursing through her veins, and she feels like throwing up and crying at the same time. This disaster had spun out of control faster than she could imagine, and she doesn’t know what to do.

Oliver doesn’t seem so either. With his hood down, he looks over the ruined city and says a few self-pitying words about himself. “And you and Diggle brought me back to Starling City and I made a vow to myself that I would never let anything like the Undertaking happen again.”

Those words should not be coming out of his mouth. She can take his fury that burns through everything, but not sad and quiet resignation. This is not who he is. “What happened isn’t your fault,” she found the voice to say while fighting against the lump in her throat from unshed tears.

Her words give him no comfort. He turns away from the city framed by shards of the broken window like he’s surprised that Felicity even responded to that. “Yes, it is. I have failed this city.” Felicity shook her head. “Yao Fei.” At the first name, Felicity finally looks up at him in disbelief. He’s lost; he’s fallen; and Felicity can’t bear to see that look on his face. “Shado. Tommy. My father. My mother. All that I have ever wanted to do is honour those people.”

“You honor the dead by fighting, and you are _not_ done fighting.” Her voice trembles with unshed tears and fierceness. Felicity doesn't know if this is what he really thinks about himself or if it’s just hopelessness speaking through him. He’s forgotten why he fights and Felicity desperately reminds him by bringing up more names to counter his list. She steps closer to him with every name, wanting to wash away all that pain and hopelessness. “Malcolm Merlyn. The Count. The Clock King. The Triad. Everyone who is trying to hurt this city —you stopped them. And you _will_ stop Slade.’

“I don't know how,” he admits.

“Neither do I. But I do know two things. You are not alone,” she said. He looked away from her and up at the ceiling, like he couldn’t force himself to keep eye contact. If Felicity didn’t know any better, she would think he was on the verge of emotional tears. “… And I believe in you.” Maybe it’s naïve, a little too hopeful, and definitely too trusting, but she does believe in him. And she steps closer. She could move her head and angle her lips ever so slightly and fall into those arm and kiss those lips that she unwittingly found herself fantasizing about no matter how hard she tried not to.

Felicity does in the beginning, but somewhere along the path from her lips to his, she angles her face to the empty space above his shoulder blades and wraps her arms around his neck. She can still move her face around to reach his lips, but she doesn’t. Felicity doesn’t think he would welcome it either. He has Sara, and Felicity is just a friend, and maybe it’s better this way. Felicity doesn’t know either way.

Oliver brings his hand up, resting softly on the small of her back, and holds her closer. They stay like that for a while, relishing in each other’s warmth and comfort until Diggle comes back into the room and Felicity and Oliver are standing a normal distance away from each other like nothing happened.


End file.
